


Repercussions

by a_walking_shadow



Category: Gallifrey (Big Finish Audio)
Genre: Gen, my favourite characters can be terrifying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 13:08:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17284643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_walking_shadow/pseuds/a_walking_shadow
Summary: Going after anyone from the tight-knit group at the top of Gallifreyan society is a terrible idea.They're protective of each other. They all possess the capacity to cause absolutely terrifying levels of destruction. And they tend to have loopholes in their moral codes, for whenever anyone threatens their friends.





	1. Leela, The Eminence

**Author's Note:**

> Blame (or thank) Ouida for this: she posted:  
> "Y’all I wanna read endless stories about Gallifrey characters being scary  
> Gotta find me some more fic that really shows these people are all genuinely terrifying  
> Wanna be spooked by the Gallifrey ot4 on main"  
> in the group chat today. So this happened. There's no Brax because he's vaguely terrifying in, like, every story he appears in and the fandom doesn't generally forget that. (I might write something with him later, though.)

Many people think I am stupid. You are not a person, but I do not need to let you into my mind to know that you think the same.

I am not stupid.

The other word they use is savage. Most of them mean it as an insult. They think that just because I wear leathers and furs, I am less than them. Or because I do not know as many long words as they do, I am stupid. I did not learn about the world in their fancy schools, and sometimes I believe in things which their science cannot explain.

I am not stupid. But savage?

Yes, it appears that I am. Not in the way they say, but they say what they mean so rarely.

You are nothing. You are less than nothing. Even a spirit would be worth more than you, as an echo of someone who once was. A spirit has a past. You have no body, and you have never had one. You have no life to call your own, creature.

You are nothing. You are a cloud of gas which learned a bunch of long words, and thought that meant you are en-titled to life.

And you hurt _my friend_.

I would not have cared, if you did not. K-9 was alive, no matter what the others say, and he had no past of his own. He was made by people, like you were. I may have even helped. You are young and alone, in a universe you do not understand. I was like that, once.

But you hurt Narvin. My friend. And for that, I despise you. For that, you will get to see that I really am the savage they call me.

I know what you are thinking. You think I am foolish, as you are a cloud of gas, and the knife at my side cannot touch you. You think I will come into the room with you, and you will take over my mind, and you will be amused as you smother the life out of my pathetic, human, body. You even think I am foolish for caring about _him_ , and in a moment, you will tell me that you were inside his mind. I know you were. You will tell me that he sees me as nothing but a pathetic savage. I will say, I know. You will laugh at me for caring what happens to him. The conversation will continue.

You see? I am no fool, and I do not need any of your tricks to know what others may think. I am a savage, you say, and I am stupid, you say, and I care about a stuffy old Time Lord and I think he cares about me too.

I am the first, and I am the last, and if that makes me stupid as well then so be it.

But I did not come here to talk to you about Narvin. You do not deserve him- any of him. You tried to take his body and mind, and I will not allow that.

You are right, in thinking my knife cannot hurt you. My life was far easier, when beasts in the forest and Tesh warriors alike fell to my blade. But I learned a long time ago that a knife cannot solve every problem.

The Doctor told me that- you know him as well? He tried to teach me that drawing my blade is not always a solution. I learned this. But he wanted to teach me diplomacy. He failed, there.  
I am still a savage.

I am just a savage with slightly better weapons than a knife and a pouch full of janus thorns. Weapons that can solve problems which are too tough for my blade.

Can you see, creature? You have no eyes of your own, only those of the people you claim.

No matter. I do not know if you can see it or not, but there is an object on the floor of the room you are in. It is an explosive. Your gas-eous form is flammable, and the room you are trapped in is airtight.

You like to think you are smart, so I do not think you need a stupid savage to explain to you what is going to happen next.

Romana told me that Eminence is a term for someone you respect. I do not respect you, creature, but in my tribe, it was always considered rude to speak ill of the dead.

Goodbye, _Your Eminence_. I only which I could have made this last longer.


	2. Narvin, Daleks

Good day to you. I’d shake your hand, as I’ve been told it’s a polite form of greeting, but you don’t have hands. I have no interest in being polite to you, either.  
My technicians have certainly done a good job, haven’t they? Your tentacles are really quite a mess. They look painful, actually. I’m not entirely sure I care.

The silent type, I take it? No matter. I’ve got quite a bit to say to you.

You are going to lose this war.  
In the next microspan- that’s, oh, about 166.67 rels, to you- I am going to authorise an attack which will devastate the forces you have amassed in the Seriphia galaxy. Of course, we’re only able to do this because of the information we gleaned from your memory banks. I could have had you executed days ago, dalek. In fact, as far as my agents are aware, you were. But I wanted you to see this.

I want you to watch as we pass the defences your armies established and obliterate your fleet.

Oh, don’t bother trying to send a message out. Even if your communications systems still worked- which they do not- this whole room has lead-lined walls, blocking every signal. There are certain advantages to the old-fashioned way of things. One of our past presidents organised this for his office, actually, and, well. Coordinator of the CIA is probably the only other role on Gallifrey where organising something like this doesn’t even raise a few eyebrows.

Now, there is one other factor I’m sure you’d be interested in- weaponry. Gallifrey has many missiles available to carry out a strike like this, as you are undoubtedly aware. Lord knows there are enough leaks in the war council. We weren’t particularly surprised to find the schematics to several of our projects, when we began decoding your memory banks. The spies are being dealt with, of course.

But I didn’t ask for permission to use any of those. Instead, I’ve ordered my agents to detonate this. Do you recognise it? Ah, I see that you do.

This is why you are going to lose this war.

Do you have _any_ idea how frustrating it has been, attempting to lead the CIA under the gaze of President Romana? It’s almost impossible, I tell you. She is kind. Determined. With integrity. Possesses every trait that means she will never, ever, turn a blind eye to my agency working against any other species. She shut down research projects, refused to permit almost every piece of interference she was aware of, and generally made a nuisance of herself.

But Romana always had one blind spot.

You.

What did you do to her, on Etra Prime? How did you manage it? We spent years- centuries, even- trying to find a way to break her, force her to conform to more traditional policies. Failing, always. You managed it in mere decades. Gave the noblest woman I’ve ever met a blind spot the size of an entire species. Hell, even the briefest mention of your kind in our reports and she’ll permit almost anything. We certainly exploited it enough, once we realised.

I doubt I’ll ever find out what happened, there. Romana never talks about it, and even- even if she did, she certainly wouldn’t talk about it with me.

But this crystal, as I’m sure you’re aware, comes from Etra Prime. Well, it came out of your casing, if we’re going to be pedantic about it- but it was mined on Etra Prime, was it not? I believe your species call it the Apocalypse Element. It was with this element that you gained control of Seriphia in the first place. I must admit, I do appreciate that we can get rid of you with exactly the same tricks you used, all those years ago.

I’ve got to go now- I have a galaxy worth of daleks to destroy and a war to win. Thank you, for your part in this. I’m sorry I can’t stay longer, but I’m very busy.

You? You just sit here. I’ll make sure that you get a good view as the armies burn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, I have no idea how long a rel is. Or how long a microspan is. Sorry.


	3. Romana, The Master

Finally decided to escape, then?

Rassilon’s dead, by the way. Regenerated. I suppose I should say thank you, for that. Unfortunately, his new incarnation doesn’t seem any saner than the previous ones, but I suppose one should always hold out hope.

You look surprised to see me here. I’m not a prisoner, if that’s what you’re wondering. Lord Rassilon would never stand to have a former president left alive, not if he could actually catch her. Playing cat and mouse with his guards is getting a bit tiresome, however, and this did seem like the last place on the planet they would come to look.

Also, it was the only opportunity I could see to actually get a chance to talk with you.

No, I don’t want your help. Don’t be ridiculous. I learned my lesson on that idiocy, many years ago. That’s actually why I’m here.

We gave you life, Master. And we gave you a mission to perform in return. And we gave you a guard, to make sure you did it. Her name was Leela, and she was my best friend.

I don’t appreciate the laughter.

Finished? Thank you. As I was saying, we sent you away from Gallifrey with Leela on board your TARDIS. A while later, we traced your artron trail across the universe, and Leela was nowhere to be seen. She turned up, eventually, and that’s the only reason I didn’t shoot you in both hearts the moment I arrived.

That does not mean I’ve forgiven you. Quite the opposite.

You aren’t scared of me, are you? _Master._ What’s that name even supposed to mean? It’s a pathetic title for a pathetic man who likes to pretend he’s powerful.

You should be scared of me, though. It’s almost a pity. The way the Doctor talks about you, I was expecting someone intelligent.

Everyone calls me President. Everyone. I haven’t been President for centuries, now. Rassilon is still referred to by his name, perhaps prefaced with “my lord” if the person facing him is particularly fearful for their life. No other former President has retained the title like this for more than a transition period of a few spans.   
It’s not like they were lacking in titles to give me, either. I’m a Time lady from the House of Heartshaven. I was Coordinator of the Celestial Intervention Agency, for a while. They could have called me all kinds of things, and yet they kept with “President”.

Have you ever wondered about that?

I certainly did. Do you want to know what I found?

There’s power in history. We, as the architects of that history, know that better than most. And when that history repeats itself, over and over and over again, the same patterns begin etching themselves into the timelines. Fall into the right role and your future may just be decided for you.

What would happen, do you think, if a race managed to realise that? If they built the entire universe in their image, reinforcing their own forms and traditions and history, in some fashion or another, on almost every planet in the universe?

I see you’re beginning to understand.

The very structures Rassilon built have turned on him, now. He isn’t supposed to be the president, according to the way these timelines flow. Time says that it’s supposed to be me. Why do you think he is forced to regenerate, so often? History is trying to correct the problem, any way it can. I’m sure I’ll reclaim the presidency, sooner or later. I can _feel_ the timelines rewriting themselves, bending to serve my will. It’s really rather distracting, if I’m being truly honest.

But here’s the thing. The President is supposed to have a group of advisors, correct? A group of trusted confidantes.   
I’m supposed to have a bodyguard. My loyal, alien, bodyguard. And because of you, I almost lost her forever. The timelines are crushing me, Master, and I can’t even imagine what they must be doing to Rassilon, if this is supposed to be working in my favour. I think the only reason I’ve been able to bear it this long is because of Leela.

Leela, who you almost killed.

Here’s what is going to happen.

You’re going to leave now. You’re going to blow up the War Room on your way out, and then you’re going to steal your TARDIS, and you’re going to leave. Consider it me, the _rightful_ President of Gallifrey, exiling you. Permanently.

You’re going to go about your normal business. I don’t particularly care what that is, as long as you stay well away from my planet.

But know this: Lord President isn’t the only role written into the timelines like this, and my Lord Burner has been rather busy, of late. Far too busy to chase after some pitiful renegade, that’s for sure.

One day, though. One day, I’m going to summon him to my side, and the most important job that _my personal assassin_ is going to have is to track down the man that nearly killed my best friend. You aren’t going to know when that will be, of course. I value Leela’s life very highly, far more than a President should a bodyguard. Perhaps I will do it the moment he returns from his current task. Perhaps I will wait until Rassilon has been exiled to the distant past, like he always should have been. Who knows, I could be occupied for centuries before getting around to you.

Eventually, though, I am going to issue a burn edict on you, and my Lord Burner will comply eagerly. You will not know he is coming until it is too late. But you will always wonder. You will be scared to meet the eyes of every single person you meet, in case they have been sent to kill you. And my Burner will succeed, when he arrives, for time itself will be on his side. Even you can’t hope to fight that.

Run along, now, Master. Don’t you have a Doctor to torment? While you still can, that is.   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... does this count as lying about not including Braxiatel?


End file.
